Young man with
the  tasseled locks
over the pasty face
stirring self-absorbed,
wasting life
at the plastic spoon between
the silken long fingers
in the coffee cup
with the frazzelled failure
of unrealized self-importance.

Don't fret with
what is not yet
in your grasp.
But consider this--
sticks that slide
through the hands,
all smoothed and polished,
are easier to hold
than the rough ones,
still covered with
bark and splinters
that toughen the hands
so thoroughly
for the stone-hard grasp
we must have
to traverse the twisting climb
of this life and the next.

Consider that those
who succeed in this climb,
grip over grip,
hand over hand,
come to realize the futility
of soft-handed arrogance,
that comes too easily,
the terrible fall
of self-pride.

Copyright 2009, Jerry W. Engler